Three Times Chosen
by OldSFfan
Summary: House must go to Family Court to adopt Rachel. Set several years after the end of Season 8. One-shot.


Way past Season 8. AU. One-shot. Now that the characters from House have been shelved by Fox, I'm taking them off the shelf to play. I don't own them and will return them, undamaged, sort of. This follows my stories "After the Deluge" and "Eighth Day," but you don't have to read them to understand this story. Bobby House, Rebecca Wilson, Ms. Goldblatt, and the family court judge are original characters.

* * *

Three Times Chosen

Bobby was tucked in his crib. Cuddy was finishing up some paperwork in the home office next to their bedroom. Rachel climbed up onto the sofa and leaned against House, careful of his bad leg. She reached up to pat his scruff. "Papa."

He put his arm around her. The IPOD was playing some New Orleans jazz. He and Cuddy had decided to limit television when the children were awake.

"Papa," she said tentatively, "Do you love me as much as Bobby?"

House twisted around to look at her. "Why wouldn't I, Rachel?"

Her little face screwed up as she tried to find the words to express herself. "Bobby is your borned baby. Mama picked me. You didn't pick me."

"But I picked both of you, Rach. So you got picked twice! That's better than once. You are a very special girl."

"Mama said we have to…" She fumbled for the concept. "We have to go see the judge so you can be my real papa."

House swallowed. The court date was a week away. With his complicated criminal and psychological history, House was very much afraid that the judge would rule him unfit to adopt Rachel. His attorney had assured him that it wouldn't be a problem. But he feared that he would be declared unfit and he would, somehow, be denied access to his family, probably a groundless fear, but the wounds of the last few years' legal troubles went deep. "Rachel," he said, "I love you as much as Bobby. It doesn't matter when we go to the judge or what the judge says. It doesn't change it. You are my very own girl. You are Bobby's big sister. And you are me Matey, aren't you."

Rachel giggled. "Will Bobby be your matey, too?"

"Well," House said, making his voice like Long John Silver's, "that depends if we let him come aboard. What do you say, Matey?"

She giggled again. "He's too little," she said.

"Arrrrr," House rumbled. "You mean he's just bait."

That led to a full-out laugh. "No, he can be my Matey," Rachel declared.

"Well, then, I guess it's okay, arrrrr," House told her.

"Aye, aye, Captain," she said, and to his delight, patted his scruff again, and murmured, "Papa, Tell me the story again."

"You mean, your special story?"

"Uh huh," she said, and leaned against him.

House snuggled her closer. He cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess."

"How beautiful?" Rachel asked.

"Very, very beautiful, and very smart. I think she had brown hair, just like my Matey here, and bright brown eyes."

"You mean like me?"

"Just like you. Arrrrr. But if you keep interrupting, we won't get to the good part."

"Aye, aye, captain," she said, and tried out her own, "Arrrr."

"Pretty good… Now where were we? Oh yes. The beautiful princess had a baby. And you know what? The baby had brown hair and bright brown eyes too."

"Like me?"

"Just like you. Now the poor princess had to keep the baby a secret. But she got sick and couldn't keep the baby, so she put her in an old house for safe keeping. The problem was, she didn't know that it wasn't a safe house for safe keeping someone as important as a baby princess. She didn't know that there were trolls there."

"That's very sad. And scaaaaary."

"Yeah. The beautiful princess was very sad. But she was so sick she had to go to the hospital. And guess which hospital she went to?"

Rachel knew the story very well. "Mama's hospital!" she shouted.

"Yeah, it was Mama's hospital. Now, your Papa tried to save the beautiful princess, even when the prince came who was the baby's father. But the beautiful princess was too sick. So she knew she had to tell your Mama where she had hidden the baby princess."

"Poor princess," Rachel said. "That's very sad."

"Yes, it was very sad. But here's the good part. Your Mama is a mighty warrior and a great hero. She put on her suit of silver armor and got on her white horse."

Rachel giggled. "Mama doesn't have a horse," she declared.

"Who's telling this story, Matey, arrrr," House growled.

"You gotta tell it right," Rachel told him.

"Oh darn," House said. "Maybe your Mama sailed on a pirate ship to rescue the baby princess."

Rachel giggled. "You can't sail the ship on the street, silly."

"Oh, okay, then I guess she rode to rescue the baby princess on her white horse, wearing her silver armor, and carrying a mighty silver sword. And when she got to the house with the trolls, she got off her horse and drew her silver sword, and came clanking into the house."

"Noooo. Mama doesn't clank. What's clank?"

"Well, she's wearing silver armor, remember. It sounds like you're banging pots and pans together."

"Mama doesn't clank," Rachel said, stubbornly.

"Okay, maybe she has well-oiled armor. Now can I go back to telling the story?"

"Okay."

"Now where was I?"

"Mama went into the house."

"Well, mama went into the house, and guess what she found there?"

"The baby princess!" Rachel shouted.

"Not yet. First, your Mama opened the door and the house was dark and cold, like a cave, but messier."

"No one made the trolls clean up their room?"

"I don't think trolls are lucky enough to have a Mama. Anyway, where was I?"

Another giggle. "Mama went in the house and it was dark."

"Oh, okay." Behind him, Cuddy had come down the hall from their home office and was leaning against the breakfast bar, listening. "So Mama's sword glowed in the darkness. She went from room to room, looking for the baby princess. Then a door opened and out came a troll!"

Rachel shivered and said, "Oooooh."

"Yeah, ooooooh. Anyway, Mama said, 'Give me the Baby Princess.' And the trolls said, 'But we want to keep her.' But mama said, 'the Baby Princess has to go to the hospital so we can make sure she's all right.'

"But the trolls didn't want to give up the Baby Princess because she was so special. But your Mama knew just what to say. She said, 'Thank you for taking care of her, but it's time for me to rescue her now and take her to my hospital.' So guess what the trolls did?"

"They gave me to Mama!" Rachel shouted.

"Yes. They put you in Mama's arms. I guess she had to put away the sword, first, and she carried you out of the house to her white horse and brought you to the hospital."

Cuddy walked around to the front of the couch and sat down by Rachel. She put her arm around her and rested her hand on House's arm. House settled back against the cushions. "Well, it turned out that the princess and prince couldn't keep the Baby Princess, so they gave her to your Mama. Guess what she named her."

"She named me Rachel," the little girl said.

"So you see," House said, you are a very special girl, because your Mama rescued you, and kept you, and named you. Very special, Rachel."

"But it's just a story," she said, happy mood evaporating.

"Rachel," House assured her, "it is more than a story. Your Mama, your little Mama, really walked into a dark house alone and rescued you. There were scary people there, and she really talked them into giving you up, so she could take you to the hospital. She is very brave, and you are very special."

"Well, okay, but does Bobby have a story?"

"Yeah, but he gets to hear it first."

Rachel nodded, once, unconsciously mimicking her Papa. House reached around Cuddy and pulled his girls close.

* * *

House hated courthouses. It was one of the reasons he had gone along with a Jewish wedding. A courthouse, a justice of the peace, he wanted nothing to do with any of it. But now, he held tight to Rachel's hand. Cuddy carried Bobby. His attorney had suggested that Bobby's presence would strengthen House's case, although she didn't anticipate any problems. House didn't believe it.

They were settled in the waiting room with their attorney. Cuddy read to Rachel and House made funny faces and noises to keep Bobby distracted. Bobby wore a tiny Princeton sweatshirt and baby jeans. Even his little running shoes mimicked his father's usual footwear. At least it was only nine-thirty in the morning and the children were fresh and weren't cranky. House wanted to run his hand under his collar and loosen his tie but he managed not to. Rachel had allowed Cuddy to pick a nice, sunny yellow dress for her. Her hair was neatly combed. She wore her good coat. But she had insisted on her pink, striped tights. They contrasted brightly with her yellow shoes.

Eventually their case was called. House was relieved when they were led to the judge's chambers, not the open courtroom, and were seated on a sofa facing the judge's desk. Rachel sat between House and Cuddy, kicking her feet up and down. Their attorney sat on one of the chairs at the end of the sofa. The family court judge was unfamiliar to them. House had gotten to know and respect Judge Helen Davis after several encounters, but this was an entirely new jurisdiction. In it, the paper record showed that he was guilty of domestic abuse with little to redeem him. In his worst fantasies, in those early-morning panics when the pain in his leg woke him and he lay there imagining all the bad things that could disrupt everything he cherished, he imagined not only being denied the right to adopt Rachel but instead, being summarily ordered out of his own home and away from his family. Cuddy sensed his disquiet. She rested a hand on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Mister House," the judge began, "you are here to adopt Rachel Cuddy. Normally this would be a routine adoption, since you are married to Rachel Cuddy's adoptive mother. However, your case is a problem under the guidelines established by the State of New Jersey. You are a convicted felon who committed a serious act of domestic abuse against Lisa Cuddy. You also were arrested but not tried on a drug charge. Can you tell me why I should look past the guidelines to allow this adoption?"

House could hear his heart thudding in his chest. He stood up, gripping his cane. He took a deep breath. "Your Honor, Rachel regards me as her father and I love her as much as if I were her natural father. But Lisa Cuddy and I have a second child, our son Robert James Cuddy-House. Rachel already has been concerned that we, perhaps, don't love her as much because she was adopted by her mother. She asked me that just this week." He looked down at Rachel, sitting on the sofa with her little legs thrust out in front of her. "She shouldn't grow up feeling second best, because she's not."

The judge nodded. "I see you both are in couples' counseling. That's a promising step."

"We also each see a therapist. And before you ask about my addiction issues, I am a chronic pain patient." He gestured toward his cane. "I see a pain management team at least once a month and primarily use non-opiates, although if I have to go to the emergency room for breakthrough pain, I am allowed access to certain opiates. Your Honor, my wife and I are both physicians and we know to keep all drugs locked up and inaccessible to Rachel now, and both children later."

The judge nodded and made a some notes on a piece of paper on her desk. "Ms. Goldblatt, have you anything to add?" the judge asked their attorney.

"Your Honor, as you can see, Rachel and Doctor House very much form a family unit with Doctor Cuddy-House and with their son, Bobby. Not approving the adoption would be pointless."

"Very well, let me ask Rachel how she feels." The judge leaned forward over her desk. "Rachel, do you want Doctor House to be your daddy?"

Rachel, in her wonderful and irrepressible way, stood up and gripped House's good leg. "Not daddy. Papa," she said, and wrapped her arms around his arm.

The judge smiled. "Well, I can't very well keep a little girl from her papa. I have reports from the psychological assessment your attorney arranged. The reports are glowing, despite the red flags I mentioned, so I have no further reservations. The adoption is approved. We have some paperwork for you to sign so that formal papers can be issued. Congratulations. Rachel, you have a new name. It's Rachel Cuddy-House."

Rachel said, "Yaay," and jumped around.

The judge stood up, smiling. "Approving adoptions is the happiest task I have. You needn't have worried, Doctor House. It's clear that you adore your family and they feel the same about you, and the act that landed you in prison seems to have not only been a one-time event, but your therapists agree that it was completely out of character and unlikely to ever recur."

House felt his breath steady. He bent down, wrapped his arms around Rachel, and swung her up against his chest. "See, Rach," he murmured, "now you've been picked three times. You are the most special girl ever."

* * *

House actually insisted on the celebration that was held the following Saturday. The Wilsons were there, along with Arlene, who was beaming and uncharacteristically cheerful. House sat at the piano and wandered through a random selection of blues and classical melodies. Cuddy or Fiona kept the bowl on top of the piano filled with pretzels. House munched and played.

Rachel crawled onto the bench and sat next to him for a while, watching his fingers dance across the keys. Then she slid down and wandered around to the adoring adults in the living room. Rebecca Wilson fascinated her, as her younger brother had fascinated her when he was tiny. Rachel settled herself on the floor by the playpen and stuck her hand between the bars. Rebecca wasn't crawling yet, but she grabbed Rachel's hand and wrapped her little hand around Rachel's index finger. Rachel giggled delightedly and let the baby tug on it.

Later, as the party was winding down, Wilson leaned against the kitchen counter next to House. "Why does Rachel call you 'Papa' instead of 'Daddy'? he asked.

House grimaced. "I called my mother's husband, 'Dad.' I just don't want to hear that from my children."

"Logical," Wilson agreed. "Papa is cute."

"Oh, good grief, Wilson. I'm not cute."

"I didn't say you were. I said it's cute when Rachel calls you Papa." Wilson grinned.

House snorted and turned his attention to his beer. It was real beer for a change. He savored the bitterness.

"So the family is complete," Wilson continued.

"Unless Cuddy gets pregnant again, but that is pretty unlikely, bordering on miraculous." He grinned at Wilson. "Are you and Fiona gonna stop at one?"

"Haven't decided. I can't forget that I'm in remission, House. What if...?"

House closed his eyes for a minute. "No. No."

"I thought you didn't do denial."

"I don't. Just don't want to think about that. Have more kids, Wilson. Being a father agrees with you."

"You too, House, you too."

"Yeah. Let's drink to that."

The two clinked bottles and turned to back to the family in the living room.


End file.
